Too Late
by Gay Ships Sailing
Summary: Something sinister is coming to the Underground and Sans needs a little help... WARNING: Major character death! Originally posted to Archive of Our Own on April 12, 2016


Sans kicked at the snow bank, knocking a pile of it into the river. The ferryman would be there any minute. A block of ice floated past him. It was way too quiet. _Yeah, and if you were right about them, it'll get a lot more quiet in the Underground soon, won't it, pal?_ Sans sighed at his own thoughts and resumed his lookout for their guest.

At long last, a dark spot could be seen coming down the water. It had to be him. Sans began fidgeting. It felt like he was never going to reach shore, but they eventually made it to where he stood and pulled the boat up to the snow.

A pink, high-heeled boot stepped gracefully from the boat, followed by the overly dramatic robot it belonged to. Sans rolled his eyes at Mettaton's pink fur coat he liked to wear when visiting. Honestly, what did Papyrus see in this guy?

"Sans, darling!" Mettaton smirked. "I know I'm a celebrity, but I certainly wasn't expecting a reception." His metallic voice grated on Sans' nerves, but he endured it this time. He had to do it for his brother.

"What took you so long?" Sans demanded. "I need to talk to you."

"Well, first of all, hon, I live in Hotland. It takes a while to get here." Mettaton began sashaying down the trail, followed closely by the much shorter skeleton. "And, secondly, in case you've forgotten, we've already had the 'if you hurt my brother, I'll kill you' talk the last time I was here. I've got it." He giggled.

Mettaton froze mid-step. A blue mist pulsed around him and he was lifted from the ground. Sans walked ahead, turning to face him. One of his eye sockets had a fiery blue glow that Mettaton had never seen before.

"Listen up, Metta," Sans growled. "Papyrus is in danger. Do you understand?" He only nodded in reply. "Good. Now, I've tried to warn him, but he won't listen to me. I figured since you're his boyfriend, maybe he'll listen to you."

"What do I need to do?" Mettaton asked in a trembling voice. Sans released the control he held on him and lowered the robot gently.

"Get him out of here." Sans whispered. "Take him to your studio or something. Anywhere that isn't Snowdin. I'll try to take care of the situation, but I know that if Pap tries to do it himself or help, he won't be able to handle it. Try to find Undyne if you can. Just tell her to be careful." The pair began to move quickly to the house, which was in sight.

"Sans, what is going on?"

"I just met someone on the edge of town. I'm not sure, but I have this feeling. I mean, they were nice and played through all of Papyrus' games. There was just something that I can't ignore. It's really hard to explain." As Sans opened the door, a jolt ran through him and his breathing hitched. He jerked the door open and stumbled inside.

"Pap?!" he called into the home they shared. "You in here, bro?" No response.

"Where is he?" Mettaton asked. "He told me he would be waiting for me here."

Another jolt surged through Sans and he plowed through Mettaton out into the falling snow. Mettaton raced behind him, urging the gears in his legs to move at top speed. The only thing he could think about was Papyrus. Who was Sans talking about? He was right about Papyrus not being able to handle fights. Papyrus was more into hugs and friendship.

Mettaton was so focused on the younger skeleton brother that he didn't notice Sans had stopped running. He tripped over Sans and landed face-first in the snow. When Sans didn't burst into laughter at that, he knew something was wrong. He almost didn't want to lift his head, but knew he had to.

Sans had never had a heart. He did have a soul to power his magical attacks and defenses, though. But, had Sans been born with a heart, it would have shattered to pieces at that moment. He knelt in the ice with a pile of ashes melting the snow in front of him. He reached forward and grasped the small bit of red cloth fluttering out of the ash. He gingerly tugged it free.

"Sans, that's Papyrus' scarf," Mettaton said. Sans didn't say anything, just sat there with the clothing in his hands. "Sans, where is he?" Mettaton felt something warm running down his cheek. He touched it with his fingertips; oil was dripping from his eye. Crying? No. He couldn't know for sure what had happened, so why would he cry?

The glowing pink heart affixed in the glass cage of Mettaton's stomach dimmed. While the computer in his brain was short-circuiting, his soul knew. The pile of ashes slid out of focus while his processors fired out a jumbled mess.

Sans pressed his face into the scarf. His tears soaked the fabric. He had always looked after his little brother. While he played himself off as the irresponsible lazy one of the two, Papyrus had been priority number one. Always. And now Sans was too late. In the end, he couldn't save his brother.

He looked up from the scarf and vaguely saw a shape walking away. The striped sweater was enough for him. How could they have done this? Curiosity? Or were they really that evil? _That isn't Frisk. Not the one I know._ Sans closed his eyes and wrapped Papyrus' scarf around his own neck. He finally turned to Mettaton who was kneeling next to him. A black puddle of oil stained the snow beneath him.

"Metta?" Sans said hoarsely. The robot raised his head, but didn't look at him. "Metta, you need to go home."

"You expect me to just leave him here?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"You need to find Alphys. Have her get your battle form ready. The human might reach Hotland eventually."

"If you think I would just-"

"Do it for Papyrus," Sans said. Mettaton finally looked at him. "Do it for our friends. We can't let them all die." It was all he could do not to give in and break then and there. Mettaton reached out, his gloved hand softly moving over the ashes. Sans let him have a moment, then the robot was gone without another word.

"I'm sorry, bro," Sans whispered to the cold air. "I wasn't here. I am so sorry." He tightened the scarf. "But I swear, I will make them pay." Papyrus had told him, only an hour ago, that he saw potential in the human. That he believed in them. Sans couldn't do that. The only person he had ever had faith in was dead and gone.

But no more. No more monsters would die if he had anything to say about it.


End file.
